Rachel Love


Three Days

What could you accomplish in three days?


Chapter 1

My Imperfections Only Make Me More Adorable


**Special thanks to The-masticator and nobi_fawkes at PTB for great comments and their expertise

**Very special thanks to Chattgirl4 who gives awesome advice!

**Please Review. This is my first fanfic and all helpful comments are appreciated!

**Twilight = Stephenie Meyer. Twilight ≠ Me.


Autumn

"The days are getting shorter," Angela said, as she peeked over her white, oval sunglasses. The sun fell behind the cluster of trees and cast a blanket shadow over my back yard.

"I noticed," I said, without looking up from my magazine. "As much as I hate the idea, I need to go clothes shopping. School starts in a couple weeks." With a deep sigh, I closed my eyes and let my head fall back on the metal chair frame. Memories began to flood my mind. A year had passed since my mom died, but at times like these, it felt as if her death had just happened.

"Sorry," Angela whispered, as she shifted her weight on the black metal lounger to face me, her five-foot-ten figure moving gracefully. I envied her long legs and natural tan, as opposed to my clumsy short legs and all over paleness. I sighed, sitting up and rubbed my face with both hands, then turning to Angela.

"Thanks." I smiled gratefully. Angela's intuition amazed me. She knew when the bad moments crept in and never tried to dismiss them; she just waited.

"It's been a crazy summer." Angela shook her head, remembering our summer job as camp counselors. "Camp was... insane."

I laughed. "I didn't know if I wanted to lose my sanity with the girls or lose my lunch with the boys!" Just the thought of the boys' "Squirting Bug Guts Competition" made my stomach turn.

"Do you think we were so annoying at ten?" Angela asked.

"No." I responded simply and Angela laughed.

Camp Hughston opened my eyes that summer. New, ridiculous fears cropped up to fuel the increasing panic attacks I had on a regular basis now. Our senior year would begin in a couple weeks and the idea that "real life" would arrive on my doorstep in May scared me shitless.

"So do you want to go shopping this weekend then?" Angela stood up, and started to collect her things as the all too familiar cloud cover rolled in from the west.

"No, actually. But thanks. I'd rather just get it done alone," I answered, as I got up from my metal lounge chair to go inside and make dinner. Charlie would be home soon.

Angela nodded. "Ok, just let me know if you change your mind." We stood awkwardly for a minute and I got the feeling she wanted to say more, but must've decided against it.

My mom died the summer between my sophomore and junior year. She ran late for her yoga class and forgot to put on her seat belt. Timeliness was never her strong suit. A drunk driver crossed four lanes of traffic, jumped the median and hit my mom's car head-on; she never saw it coming. The paramedics told me she died on impact. I really hoped so. The thought of her suffering made me sick inside. I called Charlie and asked him to come to Phoenix right away to help me tie up her loose ends and pack. My mom's husband, Phil, signed the house over to become mine when I turned eighteen since it was my mother's house to begin with. I suppose he felt it was the least he could do. Phil and I didn't speak much. He packed his stuff and moved out without even a good-bye.

The move to Forks shocked my already-fragile psyche. Charlie, my dad, felt like a stranger at first. I barely knew him, and now he was all the family I had. The dark cloud cover of Forks didn't compare to the hot sun in Phoenix; they were as different as day and night.

Angela left and Charlie arrived home promptly at five o'clock. I stood in front of the open refrigerator door, mentally sifting through recipes.

"It's not going to change," he said, as he set his gun down on the console and hung his belt on the coat hook.

"Yeah, I know. Sorry, I lost track of time," I said as I closed the refrigerator door. I had nothing, so we went to the old stand-by: chili dogs and chips, the dinner of champions. I detested canned chili, but my failure to plan left me with few options.

"That's ok, kiddo. I kept myself alive before you got here." Charlie chuckled and patted my head.

"I promise a decent meal tomorrow, Dad." I shook my head, internally berating myself.

I threw together the high-fat, high-cholesterol meal and decided on cold cereal for myself. I wouldn't eat the gut bomb.

"Angela wants to go school shopping with me," I said after dinner. Last year, Charlie took me, and it turned out to be a disaster.

"Are you going?" Charlie asked. I thought I saw a glimmer of dread on his face.

"I'm thinking about it. I'll go with her or go alone."

Charlie paused for a moment. "I'll take you, Bells." I definitely saw dread on his face.

"No, thanks, Dad. I appreciate the offer, but I'd rather go to the dentist than shop with you again."

We looked at each other and laughed. "It was pretty bad, wasn't it?" Charlie took a gulp of his beer.

"Um..." A smile crept across my face and I quickly changed the subject. "A storm is coming in from the west. I'm going to head out back and watch." I got up from the couch and headed toward the back door, flinging my favorite fleece throw over my shoulder.

My dad made a grunt-like sound and put the foot up on his recliner. The Mariners game started at seven o'clock. He tried once to come outside to bond with me and see what I loved so much. Needless to say, my beer-loving, sports-centric dad stayed out there with me for all of fifteen minutes. His effort touched me, although I think both he and I were relieved when he went in to watch the game.

Time always flew by out here. A couple of hours had passed when I sat, wrapped in my fleece throw, nestled in the peace I felt. I watched gray clouds race across the bright moonlit sky.

That's when I saw him.

I didn't know it was a 'him' at first. I saw a streak in the darkness along the tree line that surrounded my house. It came to a stop, suddenly. The most striking man I had ever laid eyes on stood at the tree line. I wasn't afraid, although I should've been. I sat quietly and watched. His chiseled features appeared to glow in the moonlight that made everything white, black or varying shades of gray. He wore jeans and white, button-up shirt and his skin was a silver white while his eyes were an onyx black. He completely captivated me. He paced at the tree line so fast my eyes could barely keep up. Why was he in my backyard? Before I could ask, he was gone.

I thought about all the things that could have just happened and got up quickly to go inside. I flung open the squeaky screen door, and when I closed the back door a little too hard, Charlie jumped, hitting his head on the cabinet he was rummaging through to find a snack.

"You okay, Bells? You're white as a ghost. Did you see something?" Charlie, always the police chief, opened the back door, and looked for anything suspicious.

I needed to think fast.

"I'm not sure, Dad. I thought I heard something in the woods." My hands shook with the little lie-by-omission as I wiped my clammy palms on my jeans. It was better than telling him what I saw.

"Yeah, well, you're not in Phoenix anymore, Bells." Charlie came back inside and closed the door. "There're animals out there. In fact, I don't know if I like you going out back after dark." His eyebrows met in obvious disapproval, but Charlie knew, deep down, that I was as stubborn as he was. If I wanted to go out, I would fight to go.

"Thanks, Dad, but I am sure we're making too much out of some harmless animal looking for food in the dark." I tried to sound nonchalant. I really didn't want him to pull rank on me. "I'm tired. I'm going to go get ready for bed."

"Okay. See ya tomorrow," Dad said, on his way into the den, Fritos in hand. By the sound of his voice, I knew we would talk about this again.

"Night, Dad," I mumbled, as I ran up the stairs to get ready for bed. I heard a mumbled "goodnight" from the den. Charlie's predictability comforted me, but it was definitely a little dysfunctional.

I bundled up in my quilt and stared out the window of my room for hours that night. I didn't see anything else that night, or any of the nights that followed.


I opened my eyes to darkness, except for the red numbers of my alarm clock that read 5:52. It would be like that today. The first day of my senior year and I woke up eight minutes before the alarm. My stomach churned and I quickly thanked God I hadn't eaten much last night. I wrapped my grandmother's old quilt tight around me. I didn't want to leave the security of my warm bed to the cold outside world. But the day would start regardless, whether I wanted it to or not.

My warm feet turned cold quickly as they shuffled through the piles of clean and dirty clothes on the floor. Still tired and somewhat nauseous, I headed to the one bathroom in the house.

More cold air hit me when I opened the door to the bathroom. At the time the house was built, insulation must have been overrated. The pipes rattled when I turned on the shower, protesting the early morning as well. I cringed as I sat down on the cold, mint green toilet that matched the mint green tiles on the wall.

Bella, you'll be fine, I reassured myself, silently. You know these people. Most of them are your friends. And besides, Angela will be there.

Thank God for Angela.

Soon steam from the shower filled the bathroom with warm mist, so I got in and tried to finish waking up. I washed my hair and relaxed into the hot water as it flowed from my hair, over my face, and down my body. I looked down at the old drain and wished I could become the water and flow out with it. Why must everything be so difficult?

The cold air hit me again as I opened the bathroom door in my towel. I shivered and darted quickly to my room. After drying my dark auburn hair, I settled on a white stretch cotton long sleeve shirt and my favorite pair of dark denim jeans. I lightly put on some brown eye shadow, a little mascara, and lip gloss. Simplicity was my motto. Actually, plain was probably my motto, but I liked how simplicity sounded. After a quick look in the mirror, I headed downstairs.

Charlie followed me to the kitchen dressed nicely in his police uniform. "Hey, Bells, I got some juice this morning; it's in the fridge. You should probably eat somethin' before you go."

"Thanks, Dad," I mumbled, as I sat down at the table. "Have a good day." Orange juice and toothpaste didn't taste great, and the knot still in my stomach cringed at the idea of any breakfast.

"Thanks, you too." His voice faded as he walked out the door.

The chair squeaked quietly across the beige linoleum floor. Opening the fridge to grab a diet coke, I began to gather my things on the table.

Phone, purse, binder, schedule, keys...

My mom would always make a big deal about the first day of school.

The reminders of Renee stood out everywhere. The dark wood paneled kitchen and the cabinets she painted yellow years ago made it seem like my dad couldn't let go of her any more than I could. Their wedding picture still sat on the mantle, almost like a shrine. Although the reminders of my mother comforted me, I couldn't help but feel for Charlie. Seventeen years had passed since she took me and left. We Swans were tough, but we scarred easily.

I grabbed my jacket and my things from the table and headed out to my truck, Old Faithful. My friends nicknamed it last year while they made fun of the faded red paint and the dent freckles. But Old Faithful was just that. Faithful. And it ran great, thanks to Jacob, my dad's friend's son. No matter what they said, I totally loved my truck.

The wind blew the changing leaves off the trees while the sky stayed overcast. Old Faithful rumbled into the parking lot of Forks High School. My new schedule in hand, I found my assigned locker and headed to my first period class, American Government. The classroom was plain, except a poster of the presidents on the wall and a map of the country. Familiar faces looked up at me as I walked in, most were friendly. A shiver ran up my back as I took a deep breath and sat in the closest seat to the door. The mask went up as I smiled and sat quietly. Even though most of those faces might think of me as their friend, only Angela knew of the silent fight I fought with myself on days like these.

The hallways were small and old but had a lot of character, with detailed architecture up around the tall ceiling, around the windows and brick walls painted cream yellow. Character and beauty lay hidden underneath the monotonous cream paint.

The economics classroom had windows lining the right side of the room, which gave the room lots of natural light. I liked it. On the rare days in Forks that the sun would come out, the room filled with bright yellow, happy sunshine.

When I saw Mr. Joseph, the economics teacher, I laughed. He must be new.

Mr. Joseph stood six feet tall with a beer gut and a long gray ponytail accented with a neon blue streak. His laugh bellowed out of the classroom and into the hall. I glanced around the room and noticed he had vegetarian posters all over his classroom. One sign in particular stood out to me. The sign read: The Roadkill Diner and had different "entrees" of rodents that were supposedly killed on the side of the road. Nice.

Angela waited for me outside economics. "I love being a senior. Two more classes today!" she said when I reached her.

"Being a senior is only fun if you worked your butt off the first three years," I said as I flung my purse over my shoulder. We walked quietly together to anatomy. Anatomy, itself, came easy to me. The horrible smell of formaldehyde that emanated from the classroom was a different story.

My favorite class turned out to be my elective writing class. The teacher planned a section titled "Cultural Literacy" that I looked forward to. The teacher was a unique man, but I couldn't put my finger on what made him odd to me.

Time passed, and after Christmas break, my writing teacher assigned a paper with a minimum of six pages. Seriously? I wrote papers like this as a sophomore in Phoenix, but I said nothing. Looking through the list of topics, past the common and boring ones for something different, I settled on "Legends of the Pacific Northwest." Interesting.

Charlie usually went fishing on the weekends. I think he felt guilty about leaving me but I always encouraged him to go as it gave me time to catch up on housework. This Saturday, however, I spent at the library. The new notebook computer I bought with last summer's camp money was fast, but Charlie's dial-up connection wasn't.

The new library still had the faint smell of new carpet and fresh paint and I loved being there. Books gave me the escape I needed as they helped me forget the bad memories, if only for a time.

"I have a paper on Pacific-Northwest legends. Do you have any suggestions on resources?" I whispered to the heavy-set woman who sat behind the help desk, playing solitaire on her computer.

"Oh, very interesting topic!" she whispered back in her Canadian accent. "That's a pretty broad spectrum though. Of course, there's the Raven and the Mouse Woman which would make for a great paper," she pounded the keys of her ancient computer's keyboard.

"Oh, okay." I scribbled the names down on my notebook.

"Also, there are the evil legends: the Cannibal Woman, the Monster Killer Whale and the Cold Ones." Her eyes lit up as she rambled off the names of the legend monsters. "Now that would make an interesting paper, eh?"

"Oh, sure. I'll check all of those ideas out. Where do I go?"

"The back corner over there," she pointed out to her left. "Let me know how it turns out."

"Uh, sure, thanks," I mumbled.

I glanced out the floor to ceiling window and noticed a storm was fast approaching. I figured I should head home. I loved Old Faithful, but I didn't like driving it when it poured. At least I had a starting point for my paper.

Later that week, Angela and I sat at my kitchen table and shared a pan of French fries.

"How's your paper coming?" I asked.

"Not bad. I finished the research, now I just have to put it all together. Yours?"

"It's coming along," I said. "I went to the library Saturday. I think I'm going to do mine on a character of the legends, or it would be too broad."

"Oh yeah? Which one?" Angela asked, and then gulped down the rest of her Diet Coke.

"There're a few." I got my notebook out of my bag. "I narrowed it down to the Cannibal Woman, the Monster Killer Whale or the Cold Ones."

"Oh, creepy, Bella! You couldn't just be normal and pick something boring, could you?" Angela joked as she shook her head.

I laughed half-heartedly as I closed my notebook. "No, I guess not." I put my notebook away and turned to my best friend. "Ange, I'm scared the memories I have of my mom are fading. It's just little things right now. I can't see her face as clearly or hear her voice like I could before," I quietly confessed. "I don't want to hurt anymore, but I'm afraid if I don't, I'll lose what little I have left."

"That would bother me, too," Angela said, gently. She looked thoughtful as she ate more ketchup than French fry. "Why don't you start a journal about your mom? You know, put in memories, and maybe even write letters to her?"

"That's a great idea. I'll think about it." I knew it would help keep her from fading, but rehashing the past came with consequences.